


Pregnant Pause

by TheOtherCourse (kanevixen)



Series: Tom and Abigail Series [43]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Thor (Movies) RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Pregnancy, Quiet, Quiet Sex, Rough Sex, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 13:09:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5292071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanevixen/pseuds/TheOtherCourse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the tail-end of the Thor: The Dark World promotional tour through six countries, Tom is looking at a solid year of career commitments. His girlfriend, Abigail is also about to start a new play on the West End. A pregnancy scare threatens to change all their plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aeroplane

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a response to a reader's question about how Tom and Abby would react to a pregnancy scare.  
> 
> 
> This was my original response on tumblr: Thank you so much!! I’m thrilled and excited that you love my writing. *squee* So flattering. Abby’s been on the pill since she was eighteen. The first couple of times that Tom and Abby get together (Upstaged - Encores - Mirror, Mirror they use a condom) Sometime in those first few encounters they get tested, and after that relied on the pill as their birth control option. There are references to it in: Cuddling Somewhere and Doing Something Sweet
> 
>  

Lifting the armrest separating me from my boyfriend, I guided his arm around my shoulders, seeking a snuggle with him. We were flying back to London from South Korea after spending a fortnight promoting Thor: The Dark World. I was anxious to return to my routine life in London with Tom, but sadly we were only five hours into a nearly twelve hour journey.

Across the aisle, Luke was snoring quietly, catching sleep when he could after trying to wrangle my lover in three different countries. Tom was watching some movie on the individual screen on the seat in front of him. When I curled into him, he hit the pause button, removed his headphones and kissed the crown of my head. Squeezing me affectionately, he quietly asked, “Alright, love?”

“Yes, I guess…” I trailed off, wrapping my arm around his waist and tucking my feet beneath me, as much as I could. I kept feeling like I was forgetting something. Every time we left another hotel or boarded another plane, this sense that I was leaving something behind haunted me.

“I know you don’t fancy these long flights. Do you want me to read to you?” I considered it for a few seconds and then shook my head. “Want to watch this movie with me?” he pointed to the frozen monitor. Again, I shook my head again, feeling listless with the seemingly long flight in front of me, wondering what I was missing. I wouldn’t feel completely comfortable until I had English soil beneath the soles of my black flats and I could check my bags once more.

I sighed impatiently, no activity but getting home was attractive or worth doing cooped up in a tin can. I was never fond of aeroplanes, but I preferred to be at Tom’s side rather than waiting at his flat for him to return. If that meant long hours on a contraption that had no business being in the air, I wasn’t going to complain, or at least refrain as much as possible. I bit my tongue and the inside of my cheek to keep my thoughts to myself.

My boyfriend kissed the top of my head again, and ran his hand over my hair. “Headache is gone?”

This journey had been wreaking havoc on my health, since I wasn’t used to the different climates, on and off the aeroplanes, the different hotel rooms, the different foods. Tom was so easily adaptable and found each new adventure and obstacle as exciting as the last. I eased into changes if they were more gradual than all at once. “Just a dull ache. I’ll survive.”

“Still nauseous?”

“No, that’s passed.” We’d gone from Australia to China to South Korea in the space of one week, and as soon as we landed in South Korea, I felt sick. Luke saw me to the hotel room so I could rest while Tom did his photo calls and interviews. The headache wasn’t so bad, and I’d been treating those with paracetamols.

“I’m glad you’re here with me, Abby. I know you haven’t had the best experience traveling this time, but I loved having you with me.”

I giggled lightly, “It was all worth it when you kissed me on top of the Great Wall of China.”

“You were convinced that we could walk one end to the other.”

I poked him in the ribs for teasing me again. “It wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“I think it would. When’s the last time you walked over 4,000 miles?”

“I’m not saying it wouldn’t take some time…”

I burrowed into his arms, trying to find a comfortable resting position when all I really wanted was to be back in Tom’s bed, stretched out beside him. As though he were reading my thoughts, he whispered, “I can’t wait to get you back into my bed. I want to spend hours making love to you properly. As enjoyable and gratifying as these quickies have been and they satisfy an itch, I need time to worship you completely.”

A shiver of desire tore through me, and Tom chuckled smugly, feeling my body respond to his words. “You’re not helping get my mind off the fact that I’m stuck on an aeroplane, Hiddleston. I’m already wanting to get off the plane now.”

“Soon, baby… very soon,” he promised as he relaxed into the back of the seat, cuddling me against his side. Over a yawn, he stated, “Remind me when you start rehearsals.”

“The 21st,” I said cautiously, feeling like something was off. There was something weird that I was meant to remember. With a gasp, I bolted upright in my seat. Tom’s eyebrows shot high up on his forehead at my sudden flinch. Urgently, I asked, “What’s the date now?”

His eyes looked up, “Uh… The 16th or 17th… I can’t calculate the time difference.”

“Oh, shit!” I buried my face in my hands, working back in my brain, reeling through dates and times.

My boyfriend stroked his hand over my back soothingly. “What’s the matter? What’s happened?” I pulled my legs up in front of me, heels on the edge of the seat, and hugged them to me. I desperately needed my safety blanket as the realization washed over me. “Abby, what’s happened?” The concern in his voice was clear as the whooshing sound of atmosphere that surrounded us.

I couldn’t run or hide from this, feeling vulnerable and trapped again. I flushed bright red, feeling the burn and rush of color in my cheeks from alarm. My pulse quickened and I was suddenly out of breath, with my voice caught in my throat.

I looked to Tom helplessly, the panic taking over. Seeing my demeanor, he wrapped his arms around me again, talking me down, cooing me softly. “Talk to me, Abby. Let me fix it.”

Whispering urgently, I said, “I can’t… I- oh my God!” He must’ve seen my terror in my wide scared eyes, because his expression became a deeper shade of perturbed. I covered my face with my hands again and murmured, “I’m late.” I cringed inwardly, waiting for the fallout, for him to understand the meaning. My schedule was turned on its head by this tour, and although I’d taken my pill every day like I always had, the time was off because of all the time changes.

Carefully, Tom pronounced, “You’re late…” The question was in his tone, confusion coloring and shading his dulcet voice. All at once, the meaning and comprehension sunk in and he held me tighter.

In a hurried hushed tone, I apologized, not knowing what else to do, “I’m so sorry, Tom. Oh God! What am I going to do? I’m never late.”

Calmly, he responded, “Don’t jump to conclusions yet, love. You’re only a week late, right?” I nodded, keeping my eyes covered, wanting the seat to swallow me up so I could hide. I didn’t know how to handle this; I’d never faced anything like this. “Abby, darling, look at me.”

I mumbled, “I can’t.”

“Hey, love…” He peeled my hands away from my face delicately, holding my hands in one of his. He kissed my temple tenderly and ran his hand over my hair again. “Abigail, look at me, darling.” Hesitantly, I shifted my gaze to his sympathetic countenance. “There’s no reason for you to apologize or be sorry for, we’re both responsible. We don’t know if there is any reason for concern or stress yet.”

“Tom, I can’t be pregnant right now. I don’t know what to do with a baby.”

“Don’t get upset about it yet, my Abigail. We’ll stop at Boots and get a home pregnancy test, and follow it up with a doctor’s appointment as soon as we land. One step at a time. Please don’t stress, we’re in this together.”

“I can’t be… I’m never late. I’m never ever late. My periods come on the tenth of every month, without fail.”

“Sweetheart, if you are pregnant, we’ll deal with it.” He pulled me out of my curled position, with my legs over his lap, forcing me to look at him. “We’re in this together. I assumed that eventually we’d have a family. If fate saw fit to give us one now, then we will have a family now. If not, that’s okay too. Please don’t be upset.”

“How are you so calm about this? I’m never late.”

“So you’ve said,” he said with a smile, attempting to lighten the mood. As well intentioned and well placed as the spot of humor was, in my state, I couldn’t appreciate it completely. Pinching my chin between his thumb and crooked forefinger, he gazed into my eyes earnestly. “I’m calm because you’re not.  I share this responsibility with you, love. We had our fun together, and if there are consequences for that, we’ll face those together. If you’re pregnant or, heaven forbid, ill, I’m here for you, it doesn’t matter the complication. I pick you.”

My hand clenched and twisted in the black jumper he wore, pulling some sense of familiarity and stability from it. “Tom, I’m scared.”

“I know you are, but I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” He enveloped me in his arms and I knew I was safe with him.


	2. Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hands were vibrating at their own frequency, moving of their own accord with nerves and stress and the unknown lurking on the horizon. We were on our final descent into Heathrow and I could barely sit still in my chair, my knees were bouncing, my palms damp. I was a wreck, with my mind running about the same speed as the aeroplane, until Tom touched me.

He wrapped his hand around my flapping one, and wove his fingers through mine. In the small gesture, I relaxed some, letting his calm and cool as a cucumber attitude infuse me into a less fidgety version of myself.

“We’ll be alright, love,” he assured me softly when I looked over my shoulder into his compassionate face. There was so much meaning laced in those words, and I wanted to believe. The plane was setting down at home, and we were heading into what could prove to be a life changing event.

“Tom?”

“Yes, love.”

“There’s a Boots in the terminal, but neither one of us can stroll in there to buy what we need. Do you think we should ask Luke to do it?” Tom obviously couldn’t take the chance being seen buying them, with paparazzi and fangirls around. I was under contract with my play, and couldn’t jeopardize my position with these producers unless I knew for sure I had to break my contract. I wasn’t incredibly well known around London, but the possibility was there.

“I don’t want to give him some kind of medical emergency at the mere mention of the possibility that you’re pregnant, Abby.”

“Suggestions?”

Tom scrubbed his hand over his face with exhaustion from the long hours on the flight and his loss for other alternatives. Combing his fingers through his hair, he ruefully said, “I’ll flip you for it. I can only anticipate that his reaction will be quite bad.”

“He works for you, babe.”

“He loves you more than me. No doubt he’ll blame me and hold me responsible for a very long time.”

As we predicted, Luke was not all together pleased that Tom and I asked him to purchase two home pregnancy tests from Boots when we found ourselves in front of Boots in the terminal. Embarrassed and blushing profusely, I stammered through the request, “L-l-luke? Could I- Would You- Can I…” I took a deep breath, trying to find the best way to approach the delicate subject. Tom looped his arm around my waist from behind, grounding me. “Tom and I have a request. We’ve got a slight complication.”

“What is it, doll?”

Tom stepped up, owned up and spoke up, “We’ve found ourselves in a situation that requires a pregnancy test.”

“Oh, bloody hell!” His eyes shifted back and forth between the both of us, and the more he stared, the more I felt like a schoolgirl that cheated on her maths examine. Difficult to ignore the publicist side of him, he wanted to scold us for the shit storm he’d possibly have to clean up if we discovered that I was in the family way. Overall, big brother figure that he was for me wanted to lock me away to protect me from everyone and everything, including Tom.

Although he complained and bitched, he disappeared into Boots and fulfilled out request before seeing us home. He ranted about our affections nonstop in the limousine, and practically forbid us from having sex ever again. When we were unloading the car, he pulled me aside, “How are you, doll? Can I get anything for you?”

I shook my head, swearing that I was fine, if a bit spooked, and nervous to find out for sure, one way or the other. He gathered me up in a big bear hug and didn’t let go for a long time. “If you need anything, anything at all, you come to me. Don’t hesitate because I’ll be there. Promise me that no matter of what those tests tell you, you go to the doctor or clinic to get checked out.” I nodded solemnly, agreeing to whatever big brother told me.

When Tom approached, Luke pointed at him sternly, “You, bloody well take care of her.” My boyfriend nodded, valiantly fighting off a smirk, offering up another show of support with his hand in mine. Luke looked to me, “If he’s an arse, you come to me.” He turned back to Tom, “Don’t be an arse.” As he turned to leave, he instructed over his shoulder, “I’m your first phone call after the results, either way.”   

Tom couldn’t find it in himself to argue in light of asking him to buy pregnancy tests. As it was, if the story got out that Luke was out buying them, he’d have to explain the nature of the situation to his boyfriend, a relationship he kept very private. He wasn’t ashamed, but he had to be careful so as not to reflect on Tom’s career in any way.

Because of time changes, draining flights, and jetlag from hell, Tom and I went to bed, falling into a deep dreamless sleep straightaway. My boyfriend, the organizer with every place for everything, and everything in its place, didn’t even bother unpacking before falling into bed with me, curled around me. The pregnancy test box stated that the best results were obtained by taking it in the morning, so the box stood stoically on the vanity until then.

With the dawn, I extricated myself from Tom’s arms and padded into the en suite bathroom to set about passing my examine, grabbing my boyfriend’s watch on the way. Quite frankly, I was numb with fear and moved about almost on autopilot. It was almost a strange out of body experience, with my thoughts and feelings all in a knotted jumble, all vying for my utmost attention, but unable to lend any of my pondering.

I read the instructions on the box twenty times, and then another twenty, and finally another ten to be sure I had it. I sat heavily on the toilet seat with the seat and lid down and stared at the thing. The tsunami of thoughts and emotions, pros and cons, hopes and dreams all flashed through my head while sitting there. How was I supposed to feel in this situation?

A light rapping upon the door sounded some time later, and Tom’s tentative voice, “Abby? Is everything alright?”


	3. Mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “It’s safe, you can come in, Tom,” assuring him that I was decent and not occupied in the bathroom. I’d walled myself up in this room with the dreaded pregnancy test clutched in my fist, building up the courage to take the damn thing.

With caution, he opened the door and came to me hesitantly. He knelt before me, knees on the hard tiled surface, looking up into my face for some understanding. He took the box from my grasp and set it back on the countertop to take my hands in his. “You’ve been in here quite a while, sweetheart.”

“I know, I’m sorry… I’m… ugh… um… sorry.”

Sitting back on his haunches but refusing to release his hold on my hands, he said, “You don’t need to apologize. I need to know what’s going on in that head of yours. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“All the things we couldn’t do if we had a baby now. I couldn’t work for a bit when the baby arrived. What the hell kind of mother would I be? I don’t know the first thing about being a mum. I might be able to figure a nappy, but I don’t think I’ve actually ever touched one.” His hands slid up and down my bare arms in a soothing way, allowing me to rant and explode verbally all over him. “You’d be able to read to the baby, with all your voices and imitations. I can’t master other dialects or accents. I can share my love of Disney, but that really goes only so far. An infant isn’t going to understand the differences in all the princesses. I don’t even know what to say to an infant.

“Then there’s the essentials of living, food, shelter, cleanliness… I can’t make toast without burning it, or me, or breaking something. I think I’ve gotten pretty good at making ice, so I could feed a baby ice. Shelter, my flat isn’t exactly child proof or child ready. Where would I put a child? The kitchen because I don’t know what to do with that room either…”

With my elbows on my knees, I found myself behind the wall of my hands once again, shielding myself from the world, from the reality of the situation. Ironically, I huffed a small humorless laugh, and commented, “I can’t exactly throw a baby in the shower to clean and wash and fend for itself, can I? Oh, God, I’m a terrible person.”

“You’re not, Abigail! You’re not. We aren’t going to complicate things and worry about nappies and prams and playdates until we know for sure.” Uncovering my face again and holding my cheeks firmly in his palms, forcing me to look into his eyes again, “We don’t know if you are pregnant, and you could be stressing yourself for no reason. But aside from all of that, Abigail, aside from all of that… you have something no one else in the world can offer a child.”

My hands found his against the plains of my cheeks, and held on for dear life. With a careful smile, he said, “You have your heart and your love to give a child unreservedly, more than any other person I know. You love so completely, so entirely that, if there is a baby, that child would want for nothing when it comes to affection. You would nurture because you don’t know how to be less compassionate, loving… accepting or sensitive… caring or warm.” With every descriptive word he used about me, my eyes stung with unshed tears of gratitude. If nothing else, I knew that my Tom loved me.

I placed my forehead against his after kissing the tip of his nose. I whispered, as the silence of the room enveloped around us, “I need to tell you something.”

He kissed me quickly on the lips before pressing his forehead back to mine. “Tell me something.”

“I’ve been sitting here stewing, because I don’t know which I’m more scared and nervous about, whether I hope that I’m not pregnant… or whether I hope that I am. I was hoping to suss out how I wanted it to go… what I want that stick to tell me before I found out.” I gasped out loud at the implications of what I’d said.

Tom pulled away slightly, and my heart sank that he would judge me harshly for admitting the true nature of my indecision. I closed my eyes, I couldn’t look, couldn’t know how he felt, if he would be angry with me, if he would think that I was manipulating him in some way. We hadn’t discussed the future or where we were headed or what our plans were personally, professionally. We lived in the moment, enjoying each day as it came with no specific agenda.

There was no question in my mind that I wanted to get married, have children, carry on being an actress, performing when I could, and no doubt I wanted all of this with Tom. I didn’t actively think about it, only fleeting thoughts or fancies here and there. I didn’t think about whether Tom felt the same for me until he told me on the aeroplane: ‘ _I assumed that eventually we’d have a family. If fate saw fit to give us one now, then we will have a family now._ ’ His words planted the seed in my head that maybe being pregnant wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Abigail, open your eyes, look at me, darling.” I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut tighter and tried to burrow into myself. “Please, baby, open your eyes,” his voice was softer, huskier, and pleading. Steadying myself with a shuttering sigh, I steeled my emotions and opened my eyes. His eyes were never as blue as they were then, looking at me as though he were grasping hope itself. “I will confess without hesitation or reservation or regret that I’m divided too. Part of me doesn’t want things to change for us. There’s a lot going on in the next few months and the added difficulty of preparing and bringing a baby into this world would be overwhelming. That being said, to come home to you barefoot and pregnant, angry or irritated with me over some hormone induced drama you’ve cooked up in your head, is so very appealing.”

“You want me angry with you?”

He smiled, a puff of air escaping his lips in a rush. “Yes and no. I love seeing your passionate side, and if it’s directed at me, pppffff… I’m all over you. Some of our most intense nights in bed have started with you angry with me. The challenge of turning that fire and burning annoyance towards me into lustful unabated yearning is so fucking attractive.” He moved his hands, one sliding down to my neck and the other splayed over my belly, the big question mark between us. I had to sit up some to allow him to do it, and the warmth of that hand was a beloved comfort that spread through my being.

“How incredible would it be if you were carrying a baby, our baby created of the passionate and fervent relationship that we have? You would be carrying a part of me within you, and that’s flattering, awe inspiring, amazing, phenomenal, astounding… there aren’t words. That would be evidence that you are mine, and I am yours, inextricably joined, before everyone, uncontestable.”

I was memorized by him, by his voice, by his meaning, by everything we meant to each other. The honesty and the openness that I’d craved from him for so much of our early days together he gave so willingly now, and I felt closer to him for it. The formation of words remained elusive to me with his truth and sincerity. Instead I kissed my fingertips and laid them upon his in a quiet gesture of grand declarations, Tom understood. He nodded, kissing the pads of my fingers, accepting my devotion.

“So no worries, my darling. As I said, and I will live by, we’re in this together.” I nodded mutely, absorbing everything to calm my storm of errant thoughts. He reached up and ran his hand over my hair in his special way. “Feeling better, love?” Sheepishly, I shook my head, flushing crimson again. “What can I do for you, Abby?”

Smiling coquettishly, I said with a shrug, “You can leave. I have to pee.”


	4. Embarrassment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom threw his head back and laughed at the simultaneous candor and shame at my admitting I had to use the bathroom with its intended use, lifting himself to his full height. The idea of weeing on a stick in front of the man I loved certainly didn’t entice me, despite the fact that we were beyond modesty after two and a half years together. He helped me to my feet and kissed me on the cheek. “If you need me, I’ll be right outside the door.”

I nodded, ushering him to the door of the bathroom and nearly pushing him out into the bedroom. Before I could close the door behind him, he put his hand up to impede my kicking him out of the room. “You’ll be alright, won’t you, love?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

Speeding through the process in the bathroom, getting to know the home pregnancy test on a very basic level, and far too personal level than I ever anticipated, I left the stick brewing on the vanity. I threw the box in the rubbish bin before clearing out of the room, wanting to forget and put as much distance between me and that piece of plastic as possible. I was having a terrible go of trying to reconcile that a single digital read out had the potential of telling me my future, our future. Instead of watching over the thing, I went out to Tom.

When I reentered the bedroom, he was sitting on his side of the bed, hunched over his spread knees with his elbows upon them, studying and picking at the palm of his hand absently. He stared out the window, or at the window. His brow was set in a thoughtful, serious expression, maybe worry, maybe hope… He was hard to read when he got silent, but the hand thing told me that he had some anxiety about this situation too. In a way, it helped me feel a bit better and a bit worse, but cementing the fact that we were in this together.

I crossed to him, encouraging him to sit up, and silently straddled his hips, wrapping myself around him entirely, seeking the comfort we always found in each other. His arms swallowed me in his embrace, desperately holding me as dearly as we both needed. Until our talk in the bathroom, I carried this little niggle of doubt, worst case scenario that Tom completely eased and erased. Unwanted and unplanned pregnancies could potentially bring the cracks and weaknesses between lovers, spelling the end to some relationships, but Tom was not turning into a horror statistic for me.

He could’ve turned his back on me, only wanting me as a body, terrified of the consequences, shrinking from his responsibility of this hurdle. But Tom wasn’t leaving me, kicking me out, screaming at me, or accusing me of trying to trap him, I was relieved that he remained the man I fell in love with, staying by my side.

Softly, he asked, “How long do we have to wait?”

“Not long… a few minutes.” I rested my head on his shoulder, afraid of facing it.

Tom’s hands tucked up under his t-shirt I was wearing to sleep in, needing the skin to skin contact. Anticipating my craving his touch to calm my racing heartbeat, he splayed his hands over my back, covering nearly every inch of bare skin with his touch. I sighed pleasurably against his neck, relieved that he was there with me for the waiting.

The room was silent, but my mind was filling in the blankness with a stead loud tick tock, booming through my head, measuring out my wait- our wait- for me. I wasn’t counting but I knew the clock continued its even, predictable march. Adjusting my position closer, I clung to Tom, greedily absorbing the strength he offered so freely.

My boyfriend lowered backwards against the mattress, bringing me with him, letting gravity help get me as close as possible. I quickly settled into my spot against his strong chest, breathing in our intimacy. This wasn’t about our sexual compatibility, rather our affection for one another.

“Abby, before this,” he let the question hover over us, before squeezing me tenderly. “Did you think about the future?”

“Sometimes,” I admitted hesitantly. “Only fleeting, nothing concrete.”

“Do you want the whole marriage, children, picket fence and puppy thing?”

I felt the vibration in his chest and felt his heartbeat accelerate a fraction against my ear. “I like the promise of stability of something like that, but…” I trailed off, shrugging against him, unable to put into words exactly what I wanted when I didn’t really think about it.

Tom smoothly rolled us over with me beneath him, in order to read my visual expressions and signals. He rested most of his weight on me, and it didn’t occur to me to mind in the slightest, as he stared into my face. “What is it, Abby? What is it that you don’t want to tell me?”

I reached up and traced the lines of his cheekbones, fearing where this line of questioning would take us. I shook my head, “If we want different things, I don’t want to lose you. Can’t we let it alone?”

“Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere and you’re not going to lose me. I’m right here.”

“You’ve run off and left me before when things got serious between us.”

“I’m not going anywhere now. There is nothing you can say that will make me run.”

I sighed drastically, crushing my nerves and reservations down as best I could. “Then yes, I want to get married.” Rushing through my speech so as not to scare him away, “I don’t mean tomorrow or next week or next month or anything like that, just eventually.” Tom didn’t move or appear to be spooked or look like he was getting up to leave. In fact, he looked almost relieved by my saying my truth.

“And children?”

I nodded, keeping that information un-verbalized, feeling as though fate was tempting me, only to toy with my emotions. I was still on the fence about how I wanted this to go. I didn’t truly want to have a baby now, but at the same time, I had a wonderfully supportive man who would see that I was loved, adored and cared for. Because I’d lost my family, I wanted a sizable one of my own, with no specific number or timeframe planned. I was absolutely at a higher power’s mercy when it came to decisions of that magnitude, grateful for whatever God or fate or luck had in store for me.

“With me? This transient, cursory thoughts of the future, am I there?” I closed my eyes, embarrassed to admit that out loud. Tom chuckled lightly, my reaction betraying the truth. “Abby, you’re blushing, love. You don’t have to feel ashamed if that’s how you feel. I want to build a home and a life with you. I’m not ready to do all of it now, but I think that’s where we’re headed. Open your eyes, silly girl.”

I did as he said, feeling completely vulnerable and exposed. “I don’t know what to say or how to react in this, Tom. This is all so new to me.”

“It is for me too, Abby.” He maneuvered off me and lifted my t-shirt to just below my breasts, exposing my belly. His right hand spread out covering most of my skin, his heat seeping into my skin, my bloodstream, my bones. I felt him everywhere with that one touch. He leaned down and brushed a kiss there before returning to his propped up on his elbow pose. “Before we go - Before we find out the results… of that pregnancy test - Because I want you to know - without a doubt that I love you - and this has nothing to do with whether you are carrying our baby…” His mind was working faster than his mouth, and he struggled to find the right words to say. “Move in with me, Abby. Live here with me.”

Butterflies swarming around my belly tried to kiss his palm still splayed over me. It was too good to be true, and I really thought that my ears were deceiving me. I was struck speechless, and could only blink at him.

“I don’t mean that you have a key, like you’ve had for a year… or a drawer. I mean relinquishing your flat, and moving in with me. You spend most of your time here, let’s make it permanent.”

I squealed and threw my arms around him. “No two sets of toothbrushes?”

He laughed in my hair. “No more two sets of anything. I want you here with me.”

“And this isn’t conditional on being pregnant?”

He pulled away to look at me, seriously. “I love you, Abigail. I want you with me, whether you come alone or with our baby.”

I squealed again and hugged him tightly. “I love you too, Tom.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes, of course!”


	5. Attitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My joy of being invited to move in and live with Tom was short lived, as we still had our other pressing situation to deal with, in the bathroom. That small stick of plastic would tell us what our present and what our living arrangements would be. I looked up from my spot on the bed into Tom’s eyes hovering above mine, wondering if he was feeling the same apprehension and anxiousness that I was reeling in. “Tom, I’m really nervous. What’s going to happen?”

He leaned down and brushed a kiss across my lips sweetly. “I know you are, but we’re together and we will deal with whichever way it goes. Shall we?”

I nodded hesitatingly, wanting to crawl under the duvet instead, ignoring the problem that was haunting the en suite. Tom lifted himself from me and stood on the hardwood floor, assisting me to my feet. I straightened the t-shirt back down over my bared stomach, smoothing the soft cotton down over me, buying time, putting more minutes between the blissful (?) unknown and the unavoidable knowing. Warily, I met Tom’s azure gaze, trying to reassure me in his silent way that I could trust him. He took my hand in his, and led me through to the bathroom, a sudden dread sinking to my belly.

Every pore in my body trembled with anxiety, trepidation cascading through my being. My knees threatened to spill me to the floor, and the room spun once dizzyingly with the fear of a digital read out. Before crossing the threshold, with a shuddering breath, I murmured tremulously, “Tom…”

“I know. I’m here. We’ll be fine.”

Without ceremony, he went directly for the test, picked it up and read the display flatly, “Not pregnant.” The silence and the tension stretched impossibly thin as the truth sunk in. He stared at the display for long moment, and I think he was holding his breath. I stared at the stick, processing the knowledge that there was no baby Hiddleston on the way. No baby, no stork flying in our direction, false alarm, just my cycle was delayed, incredibly delayed. Tom finally repeated, “Not pregnant.”

Conflicting emotions hit me like a tidal wave, and my stare became blurry from staring for so long and so hard. Shapes fuzzed away, as relief and crippling disappointment clouded my vision. In a trance, Tom placed the stick back on the vanity and turned to me, crushing me to him. I can’t explain what happened, but I felt the tears before my brain caught up with my emotions. This was absolutely the wrong time for us to have a baby. Logically I knew this, I didn’t have to break a contract, and I didn’t have to replace my wardrobe or worry about becoming a mother or how to clean a baby or what the hell mobile was supposed to do or how many dummies a baby liked to have. And I was deathly afraid of a breast pump because it sounded like a torture device. That particular burden was lifted with a negative test result, and I felt free and liberated.

Yet, at the same time, I was sad that I didn’t have another soul to love and care for like I did for my boyfriend. There wasn’t another person on the way to chase away the loneliness of being an orphan, and in a very real way, it felt like a death. Maybe a death of a dream or a hope… I don’t know. I felt the lack of a baby as deeply as though the wish for one withered into nothing. In the back of my mind, I assumed I was pregnant because my period was late.

With the confirmation that there wasn’t a baby, my brain immediately jumped to ‘what the hell is wrong with me then?’ That idea scared me even more than the contradictory emotions of respite and crestfallen that were vying for my attention.

Tom’s arm anchored me against him by snaking around my waist and the other hooked over my shoulder, with his hand holding my head to his chest. He leaned his head down and kissed the top of my head affectionately. “Sh, love, we’re alright,” he soothed patiently, feeling my tears before I spoke. “We’re going to be alright.”

All the stress since remembering I was late came crushing down around me, only to be replaced by another worry. If I’m not late because I’m pregnant, why am I? The collision of the happiness of agreeing to live with Tom mixed with the relief and the disappointment of not being in the family way, only to be left tormented by yet one more emotion was too much. “What’s wrong with me, Tom? Why am I late?”

“Abby… look, we’ll make a doctor’s appointment or go to the clinic. Whatever it is, and it’s probably nothing, we’ll get it sorted. Women can miss their cycle or get delayed for other reasons… maybe your prescription needs adjusting. There are too many factors. Please don’t be upset.”

In spite of my foolish tears, I sniffled and laughed self-deprecatingly, “Are you sure you still want to live with me? A woman that can cry for no reason and every reason all at once. My God, what is wrong with me?”

I pulled away from him to wipe away the wet tracks streaking down my face, taming the fruit salad of emotions. Tom ran his hands over my hair, his method of dealing with me. “There’s nothing wrong. I think things are sorting themselves actually,” he hinted with a knowing smile.

“Wha-“ Suddenly what he was dropping clues about became clear and I realized how silly I was for not having figured it before he did. I was displaying classic signs of PMS, with the haywire mood swings. I scolded, “You’re not supposed to tell a woman she’s suffering from PMS. You’re likely to lose a limb.”

He held up his hands defensively and stepped back. “I didn’t say it. I implied it. Those are two very different things.”

“You’re an arse. You can’t just semantic your way out of this.”

“I just did,“ he said with a wink and an irritatingly gorgeous grin. "I’d rather you cranky, irritable, and grumpy than ill. The moodiness is temporary. At least we hope it’s only temporary.”

“Hey!” I playfully tried to swat at him, instead he gathered me back up into his arms. I didn’t fight him anymore, melting into him, surrendering to his warmth.

After a few minutes of silence, interrupted only by a random sniffle here and there, Tom picked me up and carried me back into the bedroom. My arms circled around his neck and clutched him as tightly as possible. He laid me down in the center of the bed and climbed in after me, to take me back in his arms. “We’re still going to see a doctor, just to be sure. I’m not messing around with your health.”

I nodded, “Tomorrow. I’ll go tomorrow.”

“Are you alright, Abby?”

“I kind of feel overwhelmed, if I’m honest. I think in the back of my head, I convinced myself that I was pregnant. As crazy as it sounds, I almost wanted to be… almost. My mind is whirling… how can I want two complete opposite things at the same time?”

“I’ll admit to being of two minds about how this all turned out. This is for the best, because Luke would have an impossible task of getting me on the plane to Canada for filming in February if you were pregnant.”

I caressed the back of my hand over his cheek, reveling in how honest and open he was with me. “Would you have trouble leaving me if I were?”

“… or I would’ve shoved you in a suitcase to take you with me.”

“I’m miniature, count me as carry on. I’ll go.”

Tom abruptly went quiet, and he was searching my face for something. I knotted my eyebrows together, alarmed by the shift in his countenance. He placed his hand on my cheek this time, and I leaned into his touch. Solemnly he said, “It’ll happen for us one day, Abby. We’ll have a baby when we’re ready and we can plan properly. I promise you, it’ll happen one day for us.”

“I believe you.” And I truly did. He was so earnest and serious, that I couldn’t ignore what he was saying. Tom was the perfect man through all of this, and I couldn’t fault him at all for any of it. “I’m going to hold you to that, Hiddleston.”

Eventually I wanted him to make an honest woman of me one day, with the wedding and the house and the children, maybe a dog. Our eventually wasn’t right now, and I was content with that.


	6. Muffle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found my girl in the bedroom, leaning over her favorite over sized chair that Ben and I had moved into the room about an hour ago. I’m not sure what she was doing or trying to accomplish, but my brain couldn’t function or process enough to care. My eyes could only concentrate on her bum, and the curve of her hips, the manner at which her jeans clung to and outlined her movements. The material bunched at the seam of her arse and her legs, then pulled tight when she bent to collect something, and it was truly fascinating. Fascinating was definitely the wrong word.

Fuckable. Abby, in those jeans, moving the way she was, was positively fuckable.

The four of us, Luke, Ben, my girl and me, had just finished moving the last of her possessions into my flat. This place was now our flat, something we shared together, and that combined with her body calling to mine, sent my libido into hyper drive.

Since the pregnancy scare, her very delayed monthly visitor, the moving and cleaning, and both of us starting new productions, we hadn’t had the time or the impulse to have sex. I was physically drained from the extensive sword training for Coriolanus and Abby was from packing her things into boxes before and after her rehearsal. Instantly I had the impulse, and I would have her, and it didn’t matter that two of my best friends were still in the flat. I had to have her.

I closed the door behind me, flipping the lock into place, and crossed the room to her in three massive steps before she had the chance to greet me. My right hand was a magnet drawn and attracted to the round shape of her ass. Abby yelped in surprise at the sudden, brazen attachment. I hooked my arm around her to cover her mouth.

In a half pull, half thrust, I nudged my erection against her from behind. “These jeans,” I whispered heatedly against her ear, squeezing her flesh in my palm. “The jeans are sinful and I think I need to relieve you of them.” She whimpered helplessly against the clamp over her mouth. “I have an intense need to have you.”

My hand slid down slowly over her chin, down her neck and descended to one of her breasts, teasingly. I murmured with her earlobe between my teeth, “Can you be quiet, my Abigail? We have company.”

Mutely she nodded, clasping my hand, and urging me to pinch her breast. Reaching around, I took hold of her other breast and kneaded the soft, pliant globes with my hands. “I need to be inside you, Abby. I need to feel you around me.”

She wiggled against me, her rear to my groin, encouraging me, spurning me on like a matador, and I was charging ahead. I glided my right hand down into her trousers and cupped her cotton covered sex, pressing gently. She panted slightly enjoying the erotic, sensual touch against her. “How quickly can I get you ready for me?” I nibbled on the nape of her neck as her head lolled back, surrendering to whatever I did to her, with her. My middle finger teased the slit of her center with long measured strokes from top to bottom, the cotton becoming more heated with each pass. “I need you dripping for me, baby, so I can ride you hard and fast.”

Grazing my teeth along the column of her neck, I pressed my hand against her again, earning a rumble of lust from her. One of her hands flew up to my hair, scrabbling for purchase, for something to hold onto as she submitted completely to me. “Hard and fast, Abby, before our guests know we’re missing.” Pressing a circular motion over her, she keened softly with the manipulation, her hips matching the shift. “Are you wet, Abby?”

My girl tugged at my hair, bringing my mouth to hers in an angry, hungry kiss that she leaned up into fervently. Her tongue pushed into my mouth as the same moment my hand tucked into her knickers. To my utter and sheer delight, my fingers met with warm wetness along her slit and I fed a moan into her mouth. As I worked two fingers into her, I ended my kiss with her to whispered, “Can you feel how much I desire you, baby? I’m so hard for you.”

“You can fuck me already and stop talking about it,” she panted as she tried to ride my hand.

I chuckled hotly into her neck, loving my sassy girl, as I withdrew my fingers from her to pick her up. Nearly throwing her on the bed, she was already unbuckling her jeans before I could continue with my seduction of her. I freed my engorged cock from my trousers, rubbing the length for some relief from the pressure of wanting her. Abby wriggled free of her jeans, t-shirt, bra and knickers, kicking her clothes to the other side of the room. I positioned her at the edge of the bed to use the angle to our advantage. With a hand on each of her knees, I spread her thighs, pressing them into the mattress and filling her in one smooth drive forward.

We both groaned with the relief of it, though keeping our volume modulated not to arouse suspicion from outside the door. Her flesh accepted me, pulling me into her, stretching her around me and it was amazing. The intoxicating pleasure of being surrounded by her alone begged me to move, to please her completely, and in doing so satisfy my need.

I retreated my middle from hers and thrust back in as deep as possible. I grabbed her hips, lifting her hips off the bed. I held her suspended over the bed, to slam my cock into her and jolt back, only to repeat the maneuver. Abby bit her lower lip to keep her moans of pleasure and approval to a minimum, tweaking her nipples to propel me towards orgasm or to find hers, it was hard to say. I plundered her over and over, again and again.

When she reached between us to circle her engorged clit, I nearly roared with the primal need to claim her, to possess her. I fucked her harder, desperately biting back any noise bubbling up from within me. Abby’s whimpers and cries, the ones I absolutely craved under normal circumstances, began to increase in volume. I leaned over her, clamped my hand over her mouth once more to muffle the sounds, my cock still driving in and out of her at a bruising clip.

When she clawed my back, I nearly lost my mind and my manners to see her to completion first. Insistently, my breathed heavily into her ear, “You need to come for me, baby.” My other hand, the one not covering her mouth, snuck between us to join hers in manipulating her clit, to push her over into oblivion. She writhed and squirmed beneath me, desperately clutching at me, wanting to come. Quite suddenly she curled off the mattress into my chest as her orgasm hit her full on, and pushed me to mine.

I bit down on her neck, harder than I intended as the coil that had been tightening and tightening sprung loose from my belly. I grunted as my cock twitched, spilling into her, her walls contracting and releasing rhythmically over me. My hips jerked at random, playing us through to the end, eking out the last of euphoria.

I released my hand from over her mouth only to occupy it in a passionate kiss, missing the closeness and romance of that part of lovemaking. Although this was quick and for all intents and purposes dirty, I had to share that meld with her, to make sure we connected as lovers.

We heard Luke knock on the door, calling for us, “After that incident ten days ago, I forbid you from having sex ever, ever again. Get out here!”

We giggled together as Abby tried to lie, “Tom was just helping me with my chair. Almost done, be right out.”

We could hear the roll of his eyes in the retort back to the door, “And I’m the queen mother.”

I disentangled from my girl and helped her to her feet, although her limbs trembled with the effort. As I tucked myself back into my trousers, she caressed my face affectionately. She smiled up at me, and said, “We’ve christened the place.”

I chuckled again, “What have we been doing for nearly two years?”

“Practice,” she said with a shrug, kissing me briefly before going to find clothes.

“I’m only just getting started, love, but I like the practicing.”

She sauntered back over to me, wearing only her knickers. “That’s good! Because you are in for one hell of a night. We have a lot more practicing to do when your friends leave.” She stood up on her tippy toes and bit my lower lips.

Taking a deep breath, I announced loudly, “Ben, Luke, you have to leave!”


End file.
